It’s pretty simple, really. I learned all 87 rules in the NHL 2009 – 2010 rulebook in 107 days leading up to the Winter Olympics on February 12, 2010. Since then I've covered the entire IIHF Rulebook and I'm now up to the NHLPA's Collective Bargaining Agreement. Sure, I tried finding non-hockey related hobbies, but it's hard to find book clubs that want to read every hockey book ever written.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

It's 1980 All Over Again, Complete With Hockey Hair

Why I chose them: Chicago could sweep it and take the Sharks out in four games. Cup host team Brandon staged an epic upset over Calgary to get the finals, where they will face Taylor Hall, Cam Fowler and half the future of the NHL. Of course, it should be the Portland Winterhawks vs. whoever. But still, I'm thinking the junior game is going to be the more exciting of the two. Plus, the Chicago Blackhawks appear to be growing mullet-like hairdos alongside their playoff beards. I'm in for Patrick Kane as the prize winner..of course. It's my favorite bad ass growing a mullet. Duh.

Oooohh, yes I said this out loud/age-appropriate cutie pie alert: My very favorite referee Matt Kirk is officiating the Memorial Cup final. It's the cherry on top of a guaranteed awesome hockey Sundae. With chocolate sprinkles.

Proof that I am, in fact, a nerd: In between games, I'm watching the Spike Network's marathon showing of the first three Star Wars movies. I was excited, until they announced the reason why: it's the 30th anniversary of the original release of Empire Strikes Back, my favorite of the first trilogy. Where the last 30 years of my life went...no clue. But I do remember that 1980 was not only the year I discovered hockey. It was also the year I entered junior high, and in the summer preceding that epic adventure/torture session, I spent nearly every weekend at the theatre watching Empire Strikes Back yet again. Yes, I can recite all the dialogue from memory. It's like singing along to a song at this point.

The rule: Section 5, Penalties. Rule 523, Checking from Behind. A check from behind is a check delivered on a player who is not aware of the impending hit and is unable to protect himself and contact is made on the back part of the body. However, if a player intentionally turns his body to create contact, this shall not be classified as a check from behind.

523.a. A player who runs, jumps or charges or hits in any manner an opponent from behind shall be assessed, at the discretion of the Referee, a:-- minor + automatic misconduct penalty-- major + automatic game misconduct penalty-- match penalty

523.b. A player who injures an opponent as a result of checking from behind shall be assessed a match penalty.

Morals of the story:

The game: So, this is pretty much like shooting a man in the back, isn't it? Whether you commit the offense on a player who doesn't know you're coming or you turn to try and draw the penalty...either way, you're a pussy. And there's no room in hockey for woosies, pussies or any derivative there of.

Life: Tailgating, crowding someone in a line, shoving onto an already crowded train and pushing the personal bubbles to make room for your weenie -should- have-set-the-alarm-back-10-more-minutes ass...take your pick, it's all the life version of checking from behind. Although I wouldn't wait for the penalty to be assessed. I'd be the one who turns around to initiate the contact and draw the penalty, such as:

-- slowing down and tapping my brakes just to piss of someone who's tailgating me. And if they really piss me off, I start hitting the brakes at a stop light way early, so they think I'm going to stop short. Depending on whether the car has tinted windows, I can usually see their hair actually stand on end. It's more fun than a Star Wars movie.

-- Taking the end of my umbrella and poking the train-shoving offender very lightly in the butt or hip, just enough so they know something's there but not enough that they know it's me with a sharp object in my hand.

-- Shoving my very large multipurpose handbag back further over my shoulder, thereby bumping the cell phone out of the hand of the line crowder, forcing them to step away from me to pick it up. And if that doesn't work, then I turn around and add the evil "don't try it again" look to the mix.

About Me

I’m Samantha and I’m a hockey addict. It wasn’t always this way. Until I was 12, I’d never even seen a hockey game. I grew up in Arizona, before the Phoenix Coyotes, in the pre-historic era known as the seventies. Enter the eighties, which coincided with the sports event of the century. On February 22, 1980, the United States men’s hockey team defeated the Russians. I was a pre-teen, oblivious to what that game meant, until it interfered in my ability to hang out at the mall. My father had agreed to chauffeur me…after he was done watching the game. I stomped to my room in rebellion. But somewhere in the first period the yelling and stomping overpowered my REO Speedwagon record. So, I relented and the rest is history. As we approach the 30th anniversary of that victory, I have shamefully come to realize I love a game to which I don’t know the rules. 30 years and I don’t even know what a hat trick is -- unacceptable. That, fellow hockey nerds, is coming to an end with this blog.